


Lust for Life

by Lady_Elwing



Category: Charloe - Fandom, Revolution (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grieving, Introspection, Older Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 09:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11597499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Elwing/pseuds/Lady_Elwing
Summary: After Miles' death, Charlie leaves Sylvania Estates to deliver a message to Bass who left after Connor's death. As Charlie searches for him, she deals both with her sadness over Miles' passing and whatever could have happened between her and Monroe. I'm loosely following the comics' ending.





	Lust for Life

Charlie left the day Miles died. She stood there, by his bed, as he drew his last breath. It hurt like hell… But there was no other way she knew how to deal with life : head on, all claws and teeth.

 

And of course, that dickhead found a way to make her life miserable even after he was gone. Miles made her promise to find Bass, and tell him that he was sorry about Connor and… that one was weird : that he was the one who slept with Ginny what-s-her-name? It didn’t make much sense. But it wasn’t like she understood everything about the strange link between both men. She barely had time to ask him to repeat it for a third time, he was already breathless. His wife was crying on the other side, Charlie held on to Miles’ hand and to this promise.

 

Hours after he was buried, Charlie ran. She left Benny to his safe normal life, hoping he would be fine without her. After all, he was a Matheson : Mathesons either crashed and burned or they were bulletproof. She wasn’t his mother, nor his sister. There wasn’t much she could do for him. He’ll be fine, she promised Miles in her head. Bass Monroe was another story.

 

Stupid Miles, sending her into a wild goose chase. He knew she wouldn’t deny a dying man’s request. The last person she wanted to see was Bass Monroe. But Miles had insisted, he told her twice to find him. She wasn’t even sure Monroe would care. Maybe he was already dead too. The thought made her heart sink but she ignored it. Nobody would cry for President Sebastian Monroe’s death. He made sure of it.

 

He had left them, carrying his own dead grief. He could have stayed… But why would have he? All that was left for him was the best friend who betrayed him time and time again, and the girl who spent months destroying his Republic and then hunting him down to kill him. Whatever had happened between them had never been spoken about. It didn’t exist. It was only fair that he left without acknowledging it. 

 

Fucking Monroe.

 

It didn’t take her long to hear rumors about him living way up North. Last she had heard, before Miles’ request, he was headed to South America… Building a new army, creating a new kingdom. Turns out, she was most probably wrong. It was hard to imagine him doing something other than building an army, or fighting. He was made of the same steel as Miles, and her. They were not made to grow old by the fireside. Each time Miles had mentioned Bass’ past, she had find it hard to reconcile it with what she saw in him. And yet, she had also witnessed his loyalty for Miles, his attachment to Connor. It was easier to remember the warrior and forget the man.

 

Tonight she was sitting in a seedy bar, She was no target, she knew. Men, these days, usually barely glanced at her. It was something to do with the scar on her forehead. It warned people off. Better for them, she was deadly… Gotten better in spite of the few years of peace she had known. The bartender pursed his lips as she asked him about those rumors surrounding that damn Monroe. He was a cute guy, a little young. It would be better than sleeping alone. She leaned forward.

 

“Well, there was this guy. Former Militia, I think? He said something like.. Monroe was living way beyond Seattle. Had a cabin and the whole shit.“

 

“Wife and kids?“ Why did she ask? Why did she sound so bitter. She bit her lip. The man hadn’t noticed, he was scratching his head. Charlie made a face : no, it would be better to sleep alone tonight. 

 

“Nah. Don’t think anyone would want to get it on with that guy.“

 

“Heard he was quite the looker.“

 

“Probably... But it’d be like sleeping with Hitler.“

 

She took a swig of her drink. Bass Monroe was no Hitler but the patriots had written quite a story about him. And even if they were gone, the stories had taken roots. People will never forget about that monster called Monroe who did such horrible things… Forgetting the Patriots. Forgetting the wild despair after the blackout. As if the cause of all evil was Sebastian Monroe.

 

Charlie finished her drink without any other comments. The bartender tried to offer her another drink but she declined She left the bar and decided to walk some more before she found a tree to sleep under. As she laid down, watching the stars twinkling and hearing branches snap and sigh, she remembered her first journey. Good old Aaron. Maggie… Damn Miles. And Nora. So many ghost sleeping next to her.

 

Losing so many loved ones had made it hard for her to open up again to someone else. She had met guys all glowing and wholesome, wanting to start a family with her. She had met girls who wanted to have someone to stand with them against the big bad world. But she had declined, preferring to keep to her solitude. Miles had been her lifeline, her family and friend. She hadn’t resented his kid, she understood his need to have a normal life after such a long time. Her mother fucked him up good. But somehow, she couldn’t make herself want this. She couldn’t make herself forget Jason nor both Monroe men. Instead of real people, she had slept with ghosts and kept to her memories. Why build new stories when nothing lasts?

 

She lost track of days as she walked and slept alone. She barely ate, she had brought dried meat, nuts and dried berries. She avoided people. Her days and nights were filled with memories of the past. It made the silence more bearable. One day she recognized the Needle, she had seen it in one of her precious postcards. She knew her journey was coming to an end. Her steps grew slower and slower.

 

She found a bar easily. She spent hours listening to people, trying to catch something about Bass Monroe. But he was no fool, if he were indeed here, he was keeping a low profile. It wasn’t the first time he was rebuilding a new identity. 

 

“… No Jimmy sold it to me.“

 

“Really? Where did Jimmy get this?“

 

“Heard he killed Monroe…“

 

“Bullshit. Monroe was killed by Miles Matheson.“

 

Charlie watched both men, one of them was holding dog tags. Probably Bass’. Smart move Monroe. The name Jimmy did ring a bell… It was common enough and yet, she had known one Jimmy. It would be stupid to keep this pseudonym after garnering recognition in New Vegas. 

 

“You guys talking about Jimmy King?“

 

“Yeah, sweetheart.“ She shot him a dark look but kept her daggers to herself. She needed information. 

 

“Know him?“ Asked the other guy eying her up and down. Good to know she still had it, although she hated his leering gaze. A punch would crack his jaw.. And…

 

“Yeah. We go way back.“ She paused, trying to still look like a sweetheart, “where’s his cabin? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him.“

 

She paid for their drinks, listened to their stupid conversations, and cajoled some more until someone drew her a map. She left without saying goodbye. It was raining. She shivered in her jacket, her faithful jacket who had seen so much. She went on walking, her boots trudging through the mud and the dead tree trunks.

 

Monroe had chosen a spot far away from civilization. Even her buddies from the bar were not sure. It was probably a national park before the blackout, she mused as she noticed a sign post. Strange how some things survived and others vanished out of memory and recall. She walked for days, her pace was slow as her feet were bruised and her fingertips always cold. She could go faster but she didn’t want to.

 

She paused at a clearing, taking deep breaths. She staggered to sit down in the mud. Her eyes were closing, her feet couldn’t bear another rock under them. She didn’t think about seeing him again : big bad wolf would be old now. No, she thought about after. Once this last mission was over… Where would she go? Back to Miles’ kid? The whole country was in her grasp. She was free of fear and attachment. She could go anywhere. See all those places she no longer cared to see. Free to go and keep on going. Will the war in her mind ever call for a truce? Or would it keep on raging until she died?

 

Even Miles had found some peace in the end… It still seemed unbelievable but he did. Perhaps he had a greater desire to live than she ever did. To be able to want to live, after what they had witnessed, one had to have more than desire, a lust, a rage, to live; something so deep, so fierce. Perhaps, a long time ago, Charlie did want it : Before her father died, before she found out about her mother, before she saw Danny die, Before Nora, before… Before. Now all that she was the best at was surviving. 

 

Soon she’d find out if Monroe had also enough resilience to live. After seeing Miles playing the perfect husband, a bit gruff and always stinking of alcohol, and the perfect distracted father, nothing could shock her. Even Monroe with a kid and wife wouldn’t make her flinch.She frowned. She got up and peered at the map. The sun would soon set and wolves roamed free here. Just last night she had to scare one away, it’d be nice to sleep under a roof for one night. Just one night.

 

A step, another step, and another one. It was too dark to see now but she went on, grasping the tree trunks she stumbled through the forest. Up there, there was a small clearing, she could see light. There was some sort of window with some light flickering in it.

 

She stood in the entrance of the clearing, peering at the window, not noticing the rain trickling through her hair, nor her legs shaking.She flinched when she heard a step behind her.

 

“Need something?“

 

She let out a long breath, She hadn’t prepared, she had nothing to say. She turned around, there wasn’t enough moonlight to see his face, only the gleam of his eyes. He didn’t know who she was. She could leave and never come back, never face what she had to say. She was a Matheson, she thought as she cleared her throat :

 

“Long time no see… Monroe.“

 

He was quiet, unmoving. Had he recognized his voice? Was he looking for his knife to kill her? He walked past her, his shoulder rubbing against hers. She inhaled the smell of his skin, leather and whisky.

 

She turned around to look at him as he stalked to his cabin. He paused, to look over his shoulder:

 

“Coming?“

 

She followed him in. There was a fire burning that seemed inviting but she didn’t move from the door. She could see his unmade bed a few steps from a table laden with empty bottles and two chairs. She could smell meat cooking and the lingering smell of tobacco smoke. She spied a pot bubbling over the fire. Her mouth watered. Warm food, a bed and Monroe. Never had she thought this would seem so welcoming.

 

“Charlotte.“ His voice jolted her back to reality. She wasn’t a weather beaten woman, she was that girl again who stood in front of Strausser’s gun.

 

“Hi.“

 

He considered her quietly, probably taking in how much she had grown older. She dared to look at his mesmerizing eyes, his silvery curls, scruffy cheeks and those lips she had never forgotten. Connor, out of the blue his name came up in her mind. He gestured to her.

 

“Want some food?“

 

She nodded. They sat on the only two chairs, face to face. His stew was delicious. It took her a few spoonful to find her voice and purpose again. But as soon as she open her mouth, she couldn’t say it;

 

“I.. Heard you were building a new militia and republic somewhere in South America? Did they also end up rebelling against you?“

 

He laughed. Reminding her of the man she had been captured with by a pair of useless bounty hunters. She challenged him with her gaze, his smile disappeared.

 

“I did… Until I realized, what’s the point?“ His eyes lost their spark and the ghost of smile was emphasizing the crinkles in the corners of his eyes. There was so many lines marring that face she knew so well. Why hadn’t she noticed it earlier? She knew that look, she had often spied it on Miles when he thought nobody was looking. Regret, hopelessness, bone tired warriors without a cause. “So I left another guy in charge of that army. And he became Sebastian Monroe.“

 

“Heard you killed Monroe. Jimmy.“

 

This time he offered her a real smile but he didn’t say more about his adventure in South America. They ate quietly. Charlie thought about their quiet meals after she agreed to take him to Miles. At first, it was their tie to this infuriating man that had made them ally. Her throat was dry again. She let the spoon clatter in the bowl, making Bass look up.

 

“Miles sent me…“ 

 

“How’s the idiot?“ There was still a hint of affection in his tone. So, he did care after all.

 

“He’s..“ Her voice broke. She had been dreading this moment, dreading saying it and truly realizing what had happened. Miles wasn’t cursing her, wondering where she had gone. He was under the cool earth.And now, telling Monroe would make it all true and real.

 

“Miles’ gone. He made me promise to come and find you.“ She coughed, and noticed that tears were tickling down her cheeks. She hadn’t cried. Nope. The kid was allowed to cry for his father but she was just Charlie. The last oak tree. Nothing could uproot her, no one could offer her shade either : she was her own shelter. She closed her eyes. He hadn’t said a word until now :

 

“What d’you mean gone? He left?“ He sounded surprised,as if he wasn’t old himself. Sure, in the pre-blackout world he wouldn’t have been called old. But in this world.. Hell, she was old! They were all on the threshold of death. She couldn’t open her eyes, couldn’t witness whatever was going through his mind. She couldn't even deal with her own feelings. Her silence had to be enough.

 

She heard him get up from his chair, his steps coming and going. He paused, she heard him gulped down something and glass crashing against the fireplace.

 

Miles’ gone, she thought again, Miles’ dead. Really dead. Dead, gone, goodbye. Monroe, Bass, was still here.

 

She forced her eyes open. Bass was leaning against the wall. He was facing her but his gaze was no meeting hers. He looked younger, much younger than she had ever seen him. Lost. She cleared her throat, and his eyes were on her again, gone was the boyish look.

 

“He asked me.. When he was. Just about.. You know? He asked me to tell you that he was sorry about Conn…“

 

“Ok. Got it.“ He interrupted her. His voice was so low and raw, it made her think of her own voice when she told Miles’ kid about their story.

 

“He also said…“

 

“Charlotte. Miles’ dead. Who gives a fuck what he said?“ Was he crying, the man had kept a whole nation under his thumb? She had always seen him on the edge of a nervous breakdown, on the edge of a violent outburst and destruction. As if being Bass Monroe made him live on a tightrope, ready to fall into the abyss at any given time, taking the whole world with him.

 

“I care. I walked all that way to keep my fucking promise so now you’re going to shut up and listen.“ She stood up too and in a few steps she was a breath away from his face. He finally looked at her. She could see the unshed tears, the anger and all that made him that idiot that was like family to her. His jaw was clenched so tightly, she was afraid he’d lose whatever teeth he still had left.

 

“Ginny. I don’t remember her last name. Miles said he was the one who slept with her.“ She saw his face change, his eyes sparkling again and his mouth opening to let out a roar of laughter.She had never seen him laugh like this. She took a step back, looking over her shoulder to locate the door. His best friend was dead and crazy Monroe was laughing so loud it could wake the dead. 

 

“What?“

 

“Ginny McGregor?“ He blurted. She nodded. That was the right name and Monroe was still laughing. She couldn’t control herself as she planted her fist on his jaw. Miles was dead. Didn’t the moron understand that? Was he crazy? Another punch and Monroe hands were holding hers.

 

“Easy, Charlotte. You’re still so feisty!“

 

“You’re still a worthless piece of trash. What the hell is wrong with you? He’s… He’s dead.“ She yelled the last words and couldn’t keep her voice down as she went on, “He’s dead and he asked me to come and talk to you.And you’re fucking laughing. What the hell is wrong with you?“ She spat and was trying to shrug his hands off so that she could hurt him as much as she hurt. 

 

“Calm the fuck down Charlie.“ He stopped laughing and his tone was controlled once more.“Guess you didn’t know everything about Miles… And everything that happened before.“ He gestured to the chair with his chin.“Sit down. I’ll explain. I promise…“

 

He waited until she had finished her stew to speak.

 

“Don’t know how much you know about my folks.“ He paused, drawing in a deep breath,“They died before the blackout. After that, I tried to kill myself.“ He waited for her to say something, he was probably hoping for some good old Charlie Matheson snark to lighten his confession but she was too tired to oblige; maybe later. He sighed before he spoke again :

 

“Miles he stopped me. But he made me promise to let him know if I felt like I was going down that road again. We had a code phrase, something about sleeping with Ginny McGregor.“

 

Charlie opened her mouth to speak but didn’t know what to say. Why the hell Miles had sent her here?

 

“Later… we used it for other things. If things were going to hell and we needed help. Both of us“ He wasn’t looking at her, once more, playing with whatever was left in his bowl. Clearly, he hadn’t told anyone about that. Some unspoken safety net between the two most fearsome men she had ever met. And yet, it didn’t surprise her.

 

“He’d come up to me, Hey Bass, heard that whatever his name slept with Ginny McGregor. We even used it for Jeremy when he needed help.“

She frowned but nodded nevertheless. He nodded too,

“Of course you don’t know Jeremy.. He.. Nevermind. Point is, it’s a code.“

Now he looked at Charlie and his eyes held a strange glint. She had seen it before; Yes, she had, every time he had saved her ass. It was a strange mixture of warmth and a deadly violence. He’d kill for her, he had. They had killed side by side, a lethal team. But behind this steel there was another glint. Something that was so warm that her old cold and tired bones were finally finding some comfort. She gritted her teeth. 

 

Miles Meddlesome Matheson. Did he send her to Bass because he knew? He knew that she rarely slept, hated their quiet quaint life at the estate? Knew that she’d get the hell out of dodge the moment he was buried? Had he anticipated how hollow she’d feel? He knew, he must have known that she had nowhere to go, no place to hide. Nothing left.Her gaze dropped from those blue eyes she had often dreamt of. Why Miles sent her to Monroe was another story.

 

“Listen. I don’t know what all this mean,“ she yawned, “you and Miles had a fun life and all that. I’m just delivering a message.“ Her gaze dropped to her hands, “Can I stay here tonight? I’ll get out of your hair tomorrow. I’ve got somewhere I have to be.“ She hoped she sounded convincing enough. Monroe nodded. He insisted she took the bed, saying he liked sleeping on the rug in front of the fire. They shared a nightcap before going to bed. She couldn’t sleep. His bed smelled like him and she hated how comfortable she felt. She hated that her eyes were closing and her breath slowing down. She hated that tug in her heart that begged her to stay here.

 

She tossed and turned, and ended up getting up for a glass of water. Only, she didn’t know where he kept his glasses, if he had any, and if there was water in the cabin. She rummaged in her own bag to find her water bottle.

 

“What the hell Charlotte?“ Monroe sounded like had been drawn out of a deep sleep. It woke her own irritation at him. Why did she want to hit him so bad? Why did she want to leave now, in the middle of the night? She had made her peace about her parents, Danny and whatever happened in the last days of the Republic. It wasn’t for him, she was just too tired to carry the dead on her back. But now, the anger was back.

 

“Can you stop calling me Charlotte? I’m Charlie.“

 

“Ok. It’s a pity though…“ She turned around to look at him. He was sitting on the rug, the covers had fallen to his lap, revealing his bare chest and too many scars to count that caught the firelight. He had stoked the fire back to life. His consideration made her blood boil. Why was he being so nice? Why was he looking at her like she was made of glass? This was General Sebastian Monroe.

 

“Why?“

 

He frowned and took a few minutes to answer her question :

 

“Charlotte is a nice name. Except for my mom,only a few people bothered to call me Sebastian, ever. She liked the name.“ The last sentence was a whisper. This was surreal. Monroe was talking about his mother to her. As if they were friends, as if they could confide in each other. Then again, who else was left? Who else was left who still cared enough to listen? Twisted enough to understand and even empathize. 

 

“My parents always called me Charlie. Nobody but you calls me Charlotte.“ She looked away : was she having a conversation about her name with that moron? One minute she wanted to bolt out, the next she wanted to talk to him as he sat half naked in front of the fire. There was a thin scar that went from his neck to, she couldn’t see where it ended, his sheet was bunched over his stomach. She couldn’t look away from that junction between the cloth and his weatherbeaten skin. 

 

“D’you have water?“

 

He nodded and she instantly regretted her request as he got up. He was stark naked and damn he still had it. She forgot all about the scar she had been investigating earlier,letting out a sigh that he probably heard because he paused to look at her, and looked down at his own nakedness. He turned around and scrambled to pick up the pair of jeans he had tossed next to his makeshift bed. The view was still mouthwatering. He waited a few minutes before he zipped up and turn to face her. He didn’t look at her, as he went to the cabinet next to the table.

 

“No need to be embarrassed Sebastian.“ She couldn’t help but tease him but the heated gaze he shot at her made her instantly regret her jab,

 

“Liked what you saw?“

 

She was not that girl anymore, the one who had slept with his son instead of admitting her attraction to him. She licked her lips in spite of herself.

 

“Not bad for an old man.“

 

She should had slept with that young bartender who told her about Monroe’s whereabouts. She had gone too long without release. Her body was playing tricks with her. She stilled as he crossed the distance between them to give her a mug of stale water. She was thirsty, too thirsty. He was watching her as she drank.

 

“Thanks.“ She handed him the mug back. She stumbled forward, the tin mug rolling on the floor, Monroe’s hands on her bare arms and her nose in his chest. He let go of her arm, a finger traced the scar on her forehead. 

 

“What happened?“ His touch and voice were so gentle, it was more intimate than their physical proximity. She frowned slightly, going back to that evening.

 

“Someone found out who I was. I was too drunk.“ She made a face, “Miles saved the day but not my face.“

 

“I’d say he saved the best of it.“ She had to strain her ears to listen. Was her heart beating too loudly or was he whispering lower and lower? His finger grazed her scar again, his palm sliding to rest against her cheek. And the grief that she had been carrying resurfaced. Her hands balled into fists… His gentleness, the care in his eyes. Why didn’t he send her away? Why didn’t he pull his usual Monroe smug tricks? Why was he so kind? Reminding her that they were the last ones left, making her want something she couldn’t admit. Not even to herself. It was as if he was pulling out the tape that both held her together but was also depriving all her limbs from blood.

 

Her hand found the familiar burnt flesh on his arm : what was left of his Republic.He didn’t care to cover it anymore. His hand fell from her face, to grab her wrist and raise it so that he could see it,

 

“How did you get this? And why didn’t I notice it before?“

 

She took a step back, he released her arms. His initial branded into her skin was enough to remind her of who she was getting cosy with.

 

“It was a long time ago. When I went to get Danny. Forget it.“

 

“Listen Charlotte, I never said it before but now that… Now I think I should. I’m…“

 

“Cut the crap, Monroe. Water under the bridge.“

 

She went to retrieve the mug from where it had rolled. When she straightened up, he was hovering over her.

 

“Just because Miles sent you that stupid coded message doesn’t mean I need you.“ She shot him a venomous look for extra measure but he was Sebastian Monroe, he didn’t even flinch.

 

“I know. You’ve never needed anyone Charlie.“ He cocked his face. His smile spoke of so many moments that had drawn them together. It made her vision become red. She grabbed his arms, without knowing what wouldbe her next move, her fingers dug into his bare skin. Her nails burrowed deep into his flesh.He pulled her hands away.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?“

 

“I know what you were thinking… That was a long time ago. I’m not that girl anymore.“The tower, bar, the school… Batman, whatever that meant. He was forever holding it over her. Or rather, she kept it like someone would collect figurines. A collection of all the precious moments when Sebastian Monroe saved her. She didn’t want him to save her, she didn’t want to long for it. Her cheeks were aflame. Truth was Monroe had never mentioned these moments but she had thought about them more than enough. There was no point lashing out on him, she was the one to blame for all this feeling.

 

“I didn’t come here for you. I don’t need…“

 

“You’re such a… ! You’re so pigheaded Charlotte.“

 

She could feel her face heating up again and her heart thumping against her chest. It felt better than crying, and he was such a willing target.

 

“Why did you even come here? You’re smart enough to know that Miles’ message wasn’t worth much.“

 

She crossed her arms over her chest but her heart wouldn’t calm down. Would it leap out of her chest?

 

“It was out of respect for Miles.. And I thought you’d care to know that your friend was dead.“ And this time the word burnt her throat and her tongue, making her choke and her eyes water. No she wasn’t crying. The fight was gone from her limbs, she didn’t want to punch him again. She wanted to go back to bed, his comfortable bed. She had come such a long way, not only in this journey but all the others that made her leave her childhood home. She didn’t want to leave again. The thought shocked her : she wanted to stay here. She wanted to stay with him. 

 

“Aren’t you tired?“ His question jolted her out of her own thoughts. It felt like he knew exactly what she was struggling with. “Of denying the truth? Whatever happened after that kiss?“ He spat out the words shaking away all her earlier tiredness. His blazing blue eyes were demanding the truth. He might have white hair and wrinkles, he would always have the same commanding presence, that same magnetism. And like a fool, unlike the grown woman she was, she felt the same attraction that had started her fall.

 

She bit her lips and try to elude his gaze but he wouldn’t budge. His hand was tracing his initial on her wrist, his scent was drawing her in. Reminding her of that kiss. That stupid, foolish, unforgettable kiss. How many years ago was it? Her mother and Connor had still been alive. She looked away to dwell back into her memories of that evening.

 

A few miles before reaching New Vegas to find more men, they had to stop to rest. Connor had gone to wash up. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder. Sparring with words, avoiding looking at each other, trying to ignore their proximity and the only way it could end up. Ever since the moment they had first seen each other, they had been going towards this. They never spoke of it, just alluded to it with their gazes. If Connor hadn’t been with them on that trip, their little game wouldn’t have lasted long. They wouldn’t have kept the pretense up. It was Charlie who leaped first into this new territory. Her hand hovered over his, and before he could react, she was on his lap, sucking the life out of his mouth. She had kissed him, he had kissed her back. She had been dreaming of the hunger she tasted in his mouth but hadn’t anticipated how powerful this call was.

A twig snapping had made them draw apart. Thankfully it hadn’t been Connor but the kiss had burnt Charlie to the core. It had terrified her, she had terrified herself. She couldn’t be kissing Sebastian Monroe, she couldn’t be wanting him. No. She just couldn’t. Connor had been the perfect answer to her predicament. Poor Connor. He was gone now and there was nothing and no one that could be used as a shield. 

 

“You didn’t even care for him,“ he looked down, unable to say his son’s name, “But us.. Damn it, Charlotte.“ His eyes were drilling holes into hers, his voice rising with each word,“How can you deny there was something. There’s still something. I was over it. But clearly, you aren’t. Why are you here? You’re the one who r…“

 

She wanted him to say it, She wanted him to beg. Because it wouldn’t do if she went for him, Danny, dad, nobody will forgive her. But they were dead, weren’t they? Dead. Nobody left. And she was the one who had kissed him first.

 

“Charlotte. Are you listening?“It was like a dam breaking, a wild fire unleashing its fury on a desiccated forest, she grasped his face between her hands,and leaned forward until their lips met, and she kissed him, pulling away to gnaw at his lower lip, drawing blood, and kissing him again, her tongue slithering into his mouth. The whole house could be on fire but she couldn’t care less. This time she was not going to stop, she stumbled from her toes but his arms were holding her tightly. He kissed her back with an equal violence, bruising her mouth, making her gasp and grasp his curls. He wasn’t going to stop either.

 

They were all dead, but he was still alive. They were both alive.

 

It was later, as they lay naked, next to each other, in front of the fire that she let her thoughts wander. It had finally happened. It was the only way their long acquaintance could have ended; that or killing each other.

 

He was quiet, she could feel his every heartbeat as she pressed her face against his chest. His arms were around her, holding her close. She would have never guessed Bass Monroe was a cuddler. But it seemed right, the pieces were finally falling into place. She looked up to his face and let herself see each of the lines on his face, and the frown etched permanently. She had wasted so much time with her stubbornness. And now there wasn’t enough time left to enjoy what she had found, to find solace in this precious connection. 

 

“It’s too late, isn’t it?“ He didn’t answer right away, his lips brushed against her nose.

 

“It’s always too late, Charlotte.“ And his gaze spoke of the infinite weight of all the too lates he carried within himself. She knew about a some of his ghosts but there was so much she didn’t know. It was strange. In this world he was the person that felt the most familiar and yet he was a stranger. So much she didn’t know, and not enough time. Damn it.

 

“If…“

 

“That game doesn’t ever bring anything. Let’s just take whatever we can now.“

 

She nodded, ignoring the tears burning behind her eyes. One day, she would be the one burying him and she would truly be the last one left. He placed a kiss on the top of her head. She nestled against him, breathing in his scent. The one she had carried in each and every of her dreams every since their first kiss. 

 

Laughter bubbled to her lips, that sneaky meddler, “he knew, didn’t he? That’s why he sent me to you with that stupid Ginny McGregor thing.“

 

Bass sighed, “Not sure he did. Not sure he’d like it. But I think he didn’t want you to be alone. Where were you guys living anyway?“

 

“Sylvania Estates.Miles’ kid is there.“

 

“His kid? Really? Doesn’t surprise me. Miles always wanted to win. He even got to die before me.“

 

She punched him playfully on the arm :

 

“Don’t you think about dying now! I won’t let you.“ She raised her head to give him her fiercest look.

 

“You won’t?“ It was that boyish smile she’d do anything to keep.

 

“Nope.“ She kissed him softly this time. There was no way she was going to let him die before her. But her thoughts were melting as she grew once more aware of his warm flesh against hers and his mouth crushing hers. Sebastian Monroe was roaring with life, he seemed to be immortal, made to survive while all others fell.She was a Matheson, and Mathesons were bulletproof. Together, they’d live forever.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I used the name of Lana Del Rey's latest album for my OS' title. Somehow, I was listening to the album for the first time and this story came to my mind. I mostly listened to '13 Beaches', 'Tomorrow never came' and 'Change'.
> 
> I still don't want Bass to be still building an army and trying to rebuild a republic. I'd rather he retired from this and found some kind of semblance of life. And yes, I'd want Charlie to be with him.
> 
> I think Miles suspected the attraction between these two and I wouldn't be surprised if he sent Charlie to find Bass because of that. 
> 
> Anyhow, hoped you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
